


She Left Before You Woke

by aban_ataashi



Series: At Least The War Is Over [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Gen, Multiverse, character from an alternate universe contemplating their place in this universe, post-movie musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_ataashi/pseuds/aban_ataashi
Summary: Thanos was turned to dust.The stones were returned to their timelines.Gamora remains.





	She Left Before You Woke

Gamora does not fear the end. She has not flinched in the face of violence or death since she was a child. Not since she met Thanos, and became his daughter.

She has always known it would be Thanos who killed her.

Perhaps not directly. But it will come through his orders, of that Gamora is certain. The rebellion and resentment she harbors deep inside her heart make it impossible for her to expect anything else. Every day she serves him- every day she kills people in his name, every day she fights her sister for his favor, every day she carries out the purpose he has given her- those feelings grow harder and stronger, and she knows the day will come when she can hide it no longer. When she will have to act. She only hopes she will be strong enough to _hurt_ him before she dies at his hand.

As it turns out, Gamora is correct. Thanos kills her.

But _she_ is not the Gamora he kills.

 

The Nebula who looks up at Gamora, eyes both pleading and angry, is nothing like the Nebula she knows. And yet it is her- earnest and stubborn and _angry,_ it is Nebula.

“Do you want to know how he gets the stone? _Do you want to know what he does to you?”_

Gamora already knows.

They follow the stones through space and time, and Gamora watches her father unleash his inevitable justice on this other universe. Nebula- her Nebula- is at his side. Gamora should be, as well. Instead, she finds the not-hers-Nebula in her prison on the ship.

“What happens to us?” Gamora asks.

“I try to kill you, many times.” Yes, this is definitely Nebula. But then Gamora’s sister looks up at her with something in her eyes that Gamora doesn’t recognize and says, “But eventually we become friends. Sisters.”

Trust.

The choice is easy. After all, Gamora has already made it.

 

Thanos’s army evaporates into dust, and for a fleeting moment Gamora expects herself to disappear as well.

She does not. The strange power only touches the attackers, and she is not one of them. But she is also not of this timeline. It does not make sense for her to be here still.

“None of this makes any sense,” Nebula mutters after, as Gamora stares at her hands, still wondering if she will fade away. “You get used to it.”

“Well, then. What now?” Gamora wonders.

“They’re taking the stones back. Returning the timeline to what it was.”

“To the past you know,” Gamora says.

She is from a timeline that does not exist. Or will not exist. Or never existed. Nebula is right- these things are difficult to make sense of. But regardless of the reasoning behind it, one thing is clear. There is no going back for Gamora.

 

Gamora is invited to join the ship with Nebula’s new friends. Gamora’s old friends. People Gamora has never met.

She declines. Nebula tries to stay with her, but Gamora declines that offer, as well. It’s not that she doesn’t want her sister’s company. It’s simply that Gamora is all of a sudden feeling very overwhelmed by the knowledge that she is in a universe where she has made choices and friends and a new life for herself and none of it is truly _hers._ Even her newfound closeness with her sister, as welcome a change as it is, does not feel earned.

It was another woman who left Nebula and found her again, who fought with her and healed with her. Gamora is proud of that woman. She is grateful to her. She is bitter, because she is not that woman and those choices are no longer hers to make.

It’s impossible to explain, but Nebula understands. Or pretends to. Either way, she gives her sister space, and Gamora begins the process of figuring out who she was in this world, and who she is now.

 

There are records. There are logs. There are arrest warrants and news reports and historic events, and piece by piece Gamora puts together a picture of the life she had here. She finds pictures of her with people she recognizes but does not know. She finds recordings of an Earthling who held a stone in one hand and reached out to her with the other. They saved the galaxy together.

She feels a little guilty, now, for hitting him.

It’s a year after her arrival in this timeline when she finds the place where the ship is docked and knocks on the door. The Earthling answers, and when he sees her, his mouth drops open.

“Hi,” she says.

He stares. “I looked for you,” he says at last.

Gamora nods. She knew he was searching, but she is very good at not being found. “I’m trying to figure some things out,” she tells him. “Can I come along with your crew for a while?”

 

Nebula is pleased to have her on board, although Gamora still feels off-balance around her. She resembles her other self in so many ways, and then she will say or do something Gamora could not possibly have predicted.

Her first night back, Gamora attempts to spend time with her the way they always did. “Do you want to spar?”

Nebula considers the offer for a moment before shaking her head. “I have a different competition in mind. Let me show you.”

The new competition involves folding paper into small triangles and flicking them at each other. Gamora does not see the point of such an exercise, but Nebula seems to deem it important and so she goes along with it. They play five games, with Nebula winning three.

It is fun, in its own odd way.

 

Gamora’s interactions with the rest of crew are stranger. She can feel how sharply aware they are of her presence, and it puts on her edge. She is snappy and curt and defensive, and she can tell they’re waiting for her to be different but she doesn’t know _how._

Thor is easier to be around. He doesn’t expect anything from her, never makes a joke she doesn’t get or references a memory she doesn’t have.

“Maybe I was wrong to come here,” she tells him one day. “I don’t know how to give them what they want.”

“If you’re asking how to be what you’re ‘supposed’ to be, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person for advice,” Thor tells her. “I’ve been around for thousands of years, and I’m still figuring that one out.”

“Why are you still here, then?”

Thor shrugs. “I’ve tried giving up. Didn’t really help. At least while I’m here, I’m trying.”

Gamora thinks on that for a moment, then nods. “Fair enough.”

 

“You are sad.”

Gamora jerks away with a start. She hadn’t felt Mantis brush up against her in the narrow hallway of the ship; she normally does her best to avoid such contact. “Don’t touch me.”

“I did not touch you,” Mantis protests. Her antennae glow softly. “But I can tell.”

Gamora scowls and crosses her arms. Mantis is far from the most aggressive member of this team, but she is the most… unsettling.

“You do not like me.” The woman’s tone is simple and factual, not accusatory in the least, but still Gamora winces.

“It’s not that I don’t…like you. I’m just not used to you.”

“It is okay. I am accustomed to making others uncomfortable.” Mantis’s smile is wide as she speaks, but it falters as she studies Gamora. “You are sad often.”

“I’m not sad,” Gamora insists, pushing past Mantis with the intention of retreating to the safety of the upper decks.

“You miss her often.”

Gamora stops. She half-turns, not quite meeting the eyes of the empath. Mantis looks at her, head cocked, no judgment in her eyes. “You miss her the most when she is here.”

For a moment, Gamora can’t trust herself to speak. She loves Nebula, the Nebula here who loves her back and calls her a friend and a sister. But she also loved Nebula, the Nebula who was so much harder to love and who never had a chance to grow because another Nebula shot her in the chest.

Mantis takes a step closer, and this time Gamora doesn’t flinch away. “I have never had a family. But I have felt through others what it is like to lose one. It is not something that can be replaced. I am sorry for your loss.”

Gamora gives her a stiff nod. “Thank you.”

The bright smile is back now. “You are welcome! If you ever wish to speak about your emotions you need only ask. I have been told that ‘girl talk’ is helpful to-”

“Thank you, Mantis,” Gamora cuts her off. “Maybe another time.”

Mantis nods eagerly, her antennae bobbing up and down, and Gamora has to bite back a smile.

 

“You’re not the only one in the wrong place in time, you know.”

Gamora’s eyes fix on the raccoon standing at the door to her room. Rocket holds a box in his hands and watches her with a wary expression. He’s an odd one- chaotic and vulgar and for reasons she can’t begin to fathom, one of Nebula’s closest comrades. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean,_ all these idiots,” he motions behind him, indicating the entirety of the ship, “got themselves dusted for five frikkin’ years and came back actin’ like they just took a little nap. I’m the one who’s been workin’ my tail off keepin’ this tin can runnin’. Well, me and your crazy sister.”

“Do you have a point?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m workin’ up to it. This ain’t easy, okay, so just let me say it. There was a chance for them, okay? Even when we thought there wasn’t, there was always…a _feeling_ that they were still there. But you? I’d given up on you. You weren’t _gone,_ you were dead. And I dunno, technically you still are, but you’re also not, and I’m glad you’re here.”

He stalks over and drops the box on her bed. “This is all yours. I kept it. Don’t tell anyone- I still have a reputation to uphold.”

 

Gamora dodges a blow, launches herself into the air, and twists around just in time to bring her sword down on-

Nothing.

“Ha! I know all your tricks, and you know none of mine!” Drax grins wildly, standing a foot away from where Gamora’s sword fell. She snarls and launches herself forward again, feinting to the left so that she can whirl around-

And once again slash through empty air. Drax is slower than she is but he anticipates her blows. He knows her fighting style well enough to place himself exactly where her knives cannot reach him. It is _maddening._

Her advantage is that Drax’s style is easily predicted. He charges and bellows and relies mostly on force. If she could take him by surprise, the fight would be over quickly. But their sparring lasts far longer than it should, and by the end of the match they are both panting from exertion. Drax laughs with violent glee. “Another draw! Let’s go again!”

Gamora grins, giving herself to moment to stretch before sinking back into her battle stance. “You’re on.”

 

“I am Groot.”

“No, you can’t have a soda.”

“I am Groot.”

“Because it’s going to rot your roots out.”

“I am _Groot.”_

“I don’t care if Thor lets you have it, it’s bad for you. And if you get sick again, Rocket is going to shoot the whole crate into orbit.”

It’s an unremarkable conversation, and it isn’t until later that day that Gamora realizes she didn’t once have to ask another crew member for translation.

 

It takes a long time for Gamora to sort through the box Rocket gave her. It feels like an invasion of privacy, no matter how many times she tells herself it’s hers.

Some of it is easy, impersonal. A handful of small knives. A few trinkets. Gamora doesn’t see the significance of most of it, and so doesn’t feel like she’s intruding when she lays it out on her shelves.

The pictures are different. These aren’t the kind she’s seen repeated in the news of the Guardians’ exploits. These are casual, candid, taken with somebody’s personal equipment. Literal snapshots of inconsequential moments in somebody’s life. Her life.

There’s one of Rocket and Drax, drinking from large flagons as a crowded tavern cheers in the background. There’s one of Groot, much smaller and tucked into a ceramic pot. There’s one of Quill, attempting some sort of stunt with his rocket boots.

And in the middle of the stack, there’s a rare one of Gamora. She stands next to Quill, completely at ease, the two of them laughing. Gamora doesn’t know what they were laughing about in that moment, or where they were, or who it was that may have taken the picture. She sits in her room for a long time, staring at the photograph and wondering just what the hell she’s doing here.

 

“Quill.” The Earthling jumps at her voice, and the frown on his face sets off a fleeting flicker of guilt. “Peter,” Gamora amends. “I… need to talk to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sure.” He nods a little too quickly, and when he attempts to lean casually against the wall he misjudges the distance and has to stumble to catch himself.

It’s not completely his fault that he’s so startled. Gamora has been avoiding him more than the others, and to seek out a conversation with him is a break from the norm.

It’s not that she doesn’t like him. He’s a bit of an idiot, but a good-hearted one. No, Gamora avoids him because of the way he looks at her, every time just like that first moment on the battlefield on Earth, as if she’s some sort of miracle that he can’t comprehend.

“Peter,” she says again, trying to get used to the name. Not Earthling. Not Quill. Certainly not Starlord. Peter. “I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate being here on the ship, with all of you. I know I said before I wasn’t sure how long I would be here, but… I think I would like to stay.” She pauses, and shrugs self-consciously. “Truthfully, I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s great!” Peter’s face lights up, giddy and hopeful. “And hey, ‘you’ve got nowhere else to go’ is practically the advertising campaign around here! I-”

“Peter,” Gamora says firmly, and he falls silent. Gamora sighs and looks away, not able to meet his eyes. “I’d like to stay, but if I do, I need to make sure you realize… I’m not her.”

Peter’s face falls, and he is silent for a long moment. At last, in a small voice, he says, “Yeah. I know.”

“Do you?” Now Gamora turns her gaze to him, searching for the truth. “I truly don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what you had with the Gamora you knew. But whatever it is… I can’t bring it back. If you’re waiting for that to happen… it’s best if I just leave now.”

Peter looks at her, that same damn look, searching for something that just isn’t there. His hand moves forward hesitantly. “Please don’t hit me in the balls again,” he whispers, and Gamora can’t quite hold back a soft laugh. He chuckles as well, and then reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering along her cheek.

“I know you’re not the Gamora we lost,” Peter says. “But you’re still Gamora. You don’t have to…to feel the way I think she felt. You don’t have to like me at all. But I will always care about you. So whatever you need me to do, just say the word.” He drops his hand and takes a step back. “We can try to get to know each other again and figure this out. Or I can leave you alone. Whatever you need. I swear.”

Gamora thinks for a moment, dropping her head slightly to let her hair fall back in her face. She can still feel the brush of his fingertips against her skin. She hasn’t yet decided if she would like him to do it again. Shaking her head to regain herself, she steps forward to Peter and holds out her hand. “How about we start off just trying to be friends?”

Peter’s posture relaxes, and Gamora realizes just how worried he was that she was going to leave for good. He clasps her hand enthusiastically and announces “Friends! Perfect! Hey, you know what we need? A celebration.”

He fishes through the countless pockets of his coat and at last retrieves a small silver disc. “I swiped this from Earth, and I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment for a movie night. Not sure we have anything that actually plays DVD’s, but I’m sure Rocket can wire something up-”

“What is this? What’s a DVD?” Gamora asks, and smile lights up Peter’s face.

“Any chance you’ve heard of a little thing called _Footloose?”_

Gamora can only stare blankly, and Peter’s smile widens. “Oh, this is gonna be great. Let’s go round up the rest of the crew. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

His excitement is slightly contagious, even if Gamora doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s talking about. “I’ll give it a chance.”


End file.
